Murakumo

Author Comments

This is not something I usually do, or atleast have really ever completed. Been taking some different approaches with painting and I came up with this one rather quickly than expected. I didn't intend for there to be as much detail either and wanted to keep it darker and lower contrast. However, I kinda like how it turned out.

Not really any background story on this. If anyone can think of anything story wise or wants to share their insight, by all means let me know and post a comment. :) Don't forget to follow my page for more updates and new works.

Also, I think Murakumo is a particular sword (Dark Souls?). Not really the character's name but it's the first thing I thought of that sounded cool. Weeeww...

13th of Shadowdawn, 432 cycle,
I am the only one left... the others are dead or have gone mad. This...THING...had been following us from the start of our expedition. Slowly, over several days, the wraith has been picking us off, about a week ago Terras, the captain of our guards for this trip, walked off into the forest in order to find a place to camp. Though he wasn't back for several hours, we thought nothing of it, for he was often gone for long times in order to feed his strong addiction to the drink. It wasn't until one of our apprentices found his flask that we knew something was wrong.

We found him about 30 minutes later, albeit in different locations. Though his body was left slumped against a tree, we found his head much later, impaled in a tree branch with twigs protruding from his gaping eye-sockets.

After much panicking, myself and several other senior members of the Arcanoreum were able to control our students with the help of the guards. We decided to press onward, if we could reach the ruins of Nuchel-Tzeir before nightfall, we could perhaps contact the watch back in town to send a rescue team. Over the next few hours we lost more and more. People would just disappear or go mad, running into the forest never to be seen again. We never saw it, that was, until a few minutes ago. It appeared in front of us, dressed entirely in black, holding a four foot katana. Under its helm there was no sign of life, just constantly billowing smoke,for this creature was not alive. It was a being of death, it was a reaper.

Somehow, it had escaped the etherial plane, probably by some amateur conjurer attemting a spell far beyond his scope of power. In a puff of smoke and static it disappear, emerging right beside me with a clawed hand in my sons chest. In a flurry of quick movement and deft slashing, the remnants of my company were dead on the frosted ground. Too shocked to feel horror or grief I was able to muster enough strengh to stun the creature with a bottle of holy fire before I ran.

After a few hours of being hunted, I arrived at the ruins. I made camp in the Soul Well, a place found only in a few places left on our world of Nethuin. It is where the energy of our world is focused, every living thing, every emotion, every beings energy is able to be tapped from here. Though this ruins well is damaged and only a trickle of energy still flows, I am able to tap this source, and it is here I will make my final stand.